Cecilia Everain. Cause of death — late-night car accident.
Knives Everain. Missing. Vanished. Why?
Two back-to-back accidents. That alone was enough to stir curiosity — whether connected or not.
Coincidence? Maybe. But coincidence never sat well with him.
Hector's death wasn't an accident; of that he was sure. The kind of surety that came not from evidence, but from the quiet itch in his gut — the kind that never lied. Still, it was nothing more than a hunch for now. And then there was Cecilia.
A young teacher. New face at St. Anthony's School. Barely a month into the job before she met the same fate.
What tied her to all this? Nothing on the surface, at least.
But her brother — Knives Everain — he was asking for suspicion. Anyone would. You don't disappear the day your sister dies without leaving a single trace. No message. No note. Nothing.
He rubbed his temple, forcing the threads to settle into place, when the faint sound of a door chime broke through his thoughts. He looked up.
A boy stepped inside — fifteen, maybe sixteen. Nervous eyes. A little too aware of his own hands. His gaze darted around the modest restaurant — not the kind of place for fancy suits, not the kind of dump that serves burnt coffee either. Just enough.
The boy's search ended the moment his eyes caught the man sitting at the corner table.
Simon.
Their gazes met briefly. The boy approached, slow steps echoing against the floor tiles, clutching the strap of his bag tighter as he came closer.
Simon motioned at the seat across from him. "Daniel Vinchi," he said, calm. Like it wasn't even a question.
The boy nodded. Sat down.
Didn't say a word. Just stared at the table, hands tight around his bag strap.
Simon leaned back, studying him — the posture, the quiet, the guilt sitting just under the skin.
He'd seen that look before. Too many times.
"Anything you want to order?"
Daniel shook his head, eyes fixed somewhere between his hands. "No. I'm good."
The words came out thin, like he wasn't sure if he meant them.
"Make yourself comfortable, alright? No need to be tense." Simon said again, tone easy. Watching the kid tremble slightly reminded him of someone — too young, too scared, pretending to be neither.
"I–I said…" Daniel tried to push back, but the second his eyes met Simon's, the rest of his sentence got stuck in his throat.
He blinked once. "I… alright." His gaze darted away, scanning the tables, the faint hum of conversation, the dim yellow lights flickering against the old plaster walls.
Why's he acting so damn tense? he thought.
Nobody here's watching him. Just a few strangers eating in peace. He took a long, shaky breath, letting the air drag some of the pressure off his chest.
"One burger and a coke," he muttered finally, almost like an apology. His boot tapped against the floor, steady and nervous — tick, tick, tick.
Simon nodded and lifted a hand for the waiter.
"Burger, coke, and one black tea."
"Veg, non-veg, cheese?" the waiter asked, bored.
Before Simon even turned his head, Daniel spoke up quickly, "Non-veg. Extra slice of cheese."
The waiter scribbled it down and left, the soft thunk of his notepad snapping shut filling the silence.
Minutes passed. Neither spoke. Simon scrolled idly through his phone, calm as ever. He wasn't trying to push; he just waited. Let the quiet do the work.
Daniel, on the other hand, was falling apart inside. His eyes kept sliding toward the window — the moving cars, the flashing store lights, people walking home.
Why am I so nervous? he thought. I called him.
He clenched his hands together. I'm not doing anything wrong. I just want to help. If it helps Dad rest easier, then fine.
But the doubt still sat in his chest like a rock. Was what he knew even useful?
Maybe I should just apologize and go, he thought.
He risked a quick glance toward Simon. Nothing threatening there — just a man waiting, quiet, unreadable.
If I leave now, he probably wouldn't even stop me.
Then the waiter came back, setting the tray down with a soft clatter. The smell of grilled meat and hot bread hit the air.
Daniel's shoulders eased a little. He turned to face Simon properly this time. His voice was small but more certain.
Simon locked his phone and set it face-down on the table, eyes finally meeting his.
Alright, Let's talk.
"So what do you wanna talk about?" Simon asked, tone calm, almost gentle. "I'm guessing it's about your sister."
Daniel nodded, fingers twisting together. "Yeah…" He waited, hoping Simon would lead, but when the silence stayed, he forced himself to go on.
"What my mom said was true — she was busy with exams and all that. But that's only half the story. I guess even Mom doesn't know the rest."
He hesitated, swallowing hard. "Yeah, she doesn't know. That's why she didn't say anything. Dad knew though. He found out. And then…" His voice cracked. "He was lying dead and I—"
He stopped. His jaw trembled. He hated how weak he sounded.
"I knew," he said quietly, almost whispering. "But I didn't say anything to anyone. That's why I'm still alive… maybe."
Simon didn't interrupt. Just reached across the table and placed a steady hand over Daniel's. The gesture was small but grounding. Solid. Like something his father might've done.
"You don't need to be afraid, Daniel. You know that, right?" Simon said softly.
Daniel nodded once. "Yeah."
He took a breath. "I don't know how long they'd been together — months, maybe years — but I found out two months ago. I already kinda suspected something. She'd been acting… different. One day I caught her. Red-handed. She freaked out, begged me not to tell anyone. I said fine. I thought, what's the harm? It's just some guy."
He rubbed his palms together. "After that, she stopped even trying to hide it from me. Like she trusted me completely. And I didn't say anything. I kept my mouth shut like I promised. I don't know why… but something told me telling anyone wouldn't do any good."
He stared down at the table, the faint reflection of the overhead light cutting through his blurred eyes.
"Sometimes I heard her mention me when she talked to him. She'd laugh and say I was being protective. I think he even asked if the three of us could meet sometime. But I always said no. Didn't want any part of it."
His voice got quieter. "Then… about two weeks ago, Dad caught her. She was on the phone. Mom didn't know yet, but Dad— he was strict. Told her straight up to cut him off. Keep her distance. And after that…"
He paused, staring into nothing. "It started. The fights. The crying. She was overthinking everything. I thought it'd pass, like every other argument. But then…"
Hector vinchi died.
Daniel nodded, trembling again. "Yeah. I didn't think that man had anything to do with it. I really didn't. Thought it was just… just bad luck. A random accident. But when you came… when you started asking questions…" His eyes lifted, raw and full of something between fear and fury. "Then I realized… people do things like this. They plan things like this."
He swallowed. "That man… I didn't know him. Don't even know his name. Just that he was talking to my sister for God knows how long. How serious they were, how deep it went — I don't know. I didn't want to know."
He took another shaky breath. "But that guy was serious about her. So serious that… that he killed—"
His voice broke completely. His hands slid off the table, shaking.
Simon placed his hand gently on his shoulder this time. "You did good, Daniel," he said softly. " Let me handle the rest, alright?"
Daniel finally looked up, eyes wet, lips trembling.
"You know," Simon said quietly, "you're stronger than you think. It takes guts to speak up — to carry something like that and still tell it straight. I know someone … someone close. He was like you. Maybe still is. Scared. Full of fear. But doesn't have your strength. Couldn't say what needed to be said."
Daniel blinked, tears rolling down but unacknowledged.
"So go home," Simon continued. "Take care of your mom. Your sister. I promise… nothing will happen to them. Not while I'm around."